


December Kites

by trose2297



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 06:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5324690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trose2297/pseuds/trose2297
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis has a great idea: kite flying... In December. Harry doesn't approve, until he does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	December Kites

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story that I've ever put online and I'm not sure how I feel about it? I just love Larry so much.

“Harry, come on! It’ll be fun!” Louis says, hands pressed firmly against the steering wheel. Louis has a whole day planned for the two of them, now that they’re finally on their break, and can do whatever they want. 

 

It’s warm for December, so naturally, Louis wants to go do something. Harry is usually the one who comes up with the crazy ideas, but they’re finally on fucking break, which means they can be reckless and in love and do whatever they want without fear of being caught or judged. And Louis can’t be happier. 

 

Harry stares at him from the passenger seat with a slight glare, but Louis can see him struggling not to smile. He knows Harry likes surprises, he’s Harry after all. 

 

“It’s eight in the morning. We took a break to get sleep, Lou, not lose it,” Harry complains, resting his head against the window. Louis sneaks a glance at him, at his tall frame slouched over in his seat, the early morning sun shining down on Harry’s curls and sharp edges, and somehow, he’s never looked more perfect. Louis has to force himself to focus on the road. Eventually, they stop outside a Tesco, and Louis has to shake Harry awake.

 

“C’mon! Get up!” Louis shouts. Harry stirs awake, his curls stuck to his forehead. Louis licks his lips, and leans in again to shove Harry’s arm. “Haz!” 

 

And Harry finally lifts his head, glances at Louis first, then behind him at the Tesco, and he frowns. 

 

“What?” Louis asks, aloofly. 

 

“You woke me up to bring me to a Tesco?” Harry complains, his voice laced with tiredness and anger. Louis loves it. 

 

“Of course I did. Now come on, we have very important shopping to do!” Louis leans in and presses a hand against Harry’s tight pants, but only for a moment before he pulls away and exits the car. The cold air hits him instantly, but Louis embraces it. When he turns and sees Harry stalking up beside him, he can tell Harry is not thinking the same.

 

Louis doesn’t care though. Instead, he grabs Harry’s arm, and smiles up at him as they walk towards the door. Harry’s hard glare goes soft when he looks at Louis, and suddenly he’s smiling back at Louis, wrapping a long arm around Louis’ shoulders. 

 

Louis may or may not be blushing. 

 

When they enter the store, walking around the aisles aimlessly, Harry finally speaks. “Why are we here again?”

 

“Oh. Yeah.” Louis drags Harry away from the frozen foods. “Kites.” 

 

There is silence behind him as he drags Harry through the endless aisles, dodging people and their annoyed stares, but Louis feels so happy, nothing can bother him. Not even the grumbling that begins to erupt from Harry’s mouth when the pair arrive at the outdoor section. 

 

“Kites?” Harry finally says loudly enough for Louis to hear. Louis simply nods, and leans in towards the different kites on display, touching and comparing, looking at Harry for help and asking workers for advice, all until they’re finally walking out of Tesco with a new kite. Louis is ecstatic. Harry, not so much. 

 

“We aren’t going home, are we?” Harry questions, getting into the passenger seat. Louis laughs and starts the car. Harry’s so smart.

 

“Of course not.” His voice is loud and teasing, and he knows it’ll make Harry’s eyes roll. Sure enough, when he glances over, Harry’s rolling his eyes, but then he meets Louis’ eyes, and it’s fond and bright, and prettier than any star in the sky. Louis clears his throat and focuses on the road instead, cutting Harry’s intense stare short. Suddenly, it’s hot in the stark cold. 

 

 

It is warm for December, but not warm enough to stop the snow, as they trudge through three inches at the park, and the excess that is falling from the sky. Wind wisps the snowflakes around, and they get caught in Harry’s curls and his long lashes, and the cold wind whips against his cheeks, turning them bright red, contrasting with his pretty green eyes and fucks sake, Louis should have thought of kite flying in the winter a long time ago. Everything about Harry is perfect, but him like this… Louis’ so in love, it hurts.

 

“So,” Louis announces, holding the kite in his gloved hands. “Are you ready?”

 

Harry turns around, bright eyes wide, and he reaches over to take the handle of the kite. “No,” he tells Louis, grabbing the kite firmly in his hand. Louis marches over, and explains to him that he needs to hold the nose into the air. 

 

“The nose?” Harry had repeated, concerned. Louis had frowned and explained to him about his google search and, “Yes, Harold… This tip of the kite is the nose. Now hold it up!” 

 

And now Harry is, and he’s also awaiting Louis’ next instructions, which is, “Let it go gently.” 

 

“This sounds too easy,” Harry mumbles, thin but large fingers slowly moving off the kite. The wind pushes it, and it falters slightly. Harry looks devastated, oddly enough, and Louis wants to laugh at his childish demeanor. “I’m gonna mess it up. You do it.” And the kite is shoved into Louis face. He frowns. 

 

Harry gets insecure and worried, and pulls away and Louis hates that. So he pushes the kite back towards Harry, who is staring with glassy eyes and an unreadable face. 

 

“You’re doing fine. You’re just as clueless as I am anyway.” Louis smiles, reaches out to touch Harry’s soft, cold, red cheek and his skin burns on Harry’s as if he’s not as cold as ice, but rather as hot as the burning sun. Louis swallows and pulls away, before he gives into the red temptation that is Harry’s mouth. Harry clears his throat, pulled from his trance and he glances down at the kite. 

 

“Nose in the air,” he repeats, pointing the tip of the kite up. “Let go slowly.” This time, the wind picks it up, and the kite slowly raises higher, and the blinding smile Harry gives Louis is enough to end all the fucking wars, world hunger, it’s enough to over power the sun. Louis can’t take his eyes away. 

 

“I did it, Lou! I did it!” Harry screeches against the harsh wind and snowflakes. Harry pushes curls from his face, and stares up at the kite. A single strand falls in front of his eyes as he shakes his head in amazement, and nothing has ever looked more ethereal. 

 

“I told you that you could,” Louis announces, standing beside Harry. Warmth radiates from him, and Louis finds himself moving closer. He’s never felt more comfortable. 

 

“It’s a pretty kite,” Harry says softly, staring at the simple diamond shaped kite, and Louis frowns. 

 

“I don’t like the colors,” Louis decides. 

 

“I do. They’re bold and bright; screaming life into the death around it.” Harry grins. Louis chews on his lip.

 

“That’s pretty dark,” he says. “But nice.” 

 

Harry’s smile just grows even wider.

 

It’s been three hours of this kite flying, and now Louis has had enough. He’s barely even flown the damned thing; Harry is obsessed with it. Louis doesn’t know what kind of monster he has created, but it’s a large, giggling, long limbed and toothy smiled mess of laughter and snowflakes, and fuck, Louis really wants to go home. It’s midday now, and the snowflakes are falling faster and faster, and now Harry’s curls are full of flakes, and his hair is as white as the fucking snow. 

 

He looks like some goddamn Disney princess, prancing around in the snow with the kite, red lips parting to say something to Louis, or laugh, and his curls falling over his sharp green eyes and well, Louis hates it. 

 

“Haz,” Louis whines as Harry leads the kite towards an oak tree. “Can we please go. I want a cuppa and my bed.” 

 

“Stop being negative, Louis Tomlinson,” Harry announces, his deep voice rumbling with laughter. Louis hates him. “And your cuppa can wait.” 

 

“Fookin’ hell,” Louis mutters. “I’ve turned you into a kite monster!” Louis shouts, stomping through the deep snow towards the fucking giant who is acting like a five year old. Harry’s eyes burn into Louis, and maybe Louis almost trips and falls. 

 

In the two seconds Harry glances at Louis, the wind blows hard, and Harry’s steps falter and then- 

 

“It’s stuck in the tree!” Harry whines, hands curling into large fists. Louis presses his hand against his palm, and wishes he brought a hat. 

 

“Of course it is,” Louis says bitterly, stopping beside Harry. He looks sad, his entire figure slouched over, and he’s looking at Louis with big eyes, and he looks like he might cry any second, and Louis shouldn’t feel bad, he really fucking shouldn’t, but he really does. Jesus, he’s so in love. “Go get it.” 

 

Harry sniffles, fucking sniffles. “But Louis! The branches are all so small and I’m so tall and… and…” His pouts. “Can you get it?” 

 

“Wha-? No! Are you crazy? Me, climb a tree?” Louis laughs it off, because it’s clearly a joke. Harry can’t seriously want him to go into the tree. “Let’s just forget it and go home. We can even stop in Tesco to buy another one.”

 

Harry stares at the kite, which is almost teasing him as it lingers in a snow covered branch. “I want that one. I want Kate.”

 

“Pardon?” 

 

“Kate…” Harry grins. “Kate the Kite.” 

 

“You’re so fookin’ cheesy.”

 

“I like it.”

 

“I never said I didn’t.” 

 

“So do you?”

 

“I wanna smack you, Curly.” 

 

“Please get the kite.” Harry’s voice is soft, and alluring, and pleading, and everything wonderful and so naturally, Louis gives in. He finds himself nodding and drowning in the green sea of Harry, Harry, Harry, and his stupid arms as they hug him and as his baritone voice says, “I’ll lift you up.” 

 

He does, and then Louis is up in the tree, wondering what life choices he has made to end up in a fucking tree in December to get a kite for Harry Styles. As he climbs a branch and almost falls, he remembers. He decided to be spontaneous. 

 

“Never. Again.” Louis plants his feet firmly and peers up at the kite, which is in his grasp. He leans out, grunting as he tries to stretch his arm out. He grasps at the string of the kite, and he’s got it, he’s fucking got it! 

 

His foot slips, falls through the branches and his grip loosens on the string and fuck, he’s falling. He’s falling! 

 

“Fuck!” Louis shouts, trying to grab at branches, but they fly past him and he’s left clinging at air, until he crashes into muscle, and a parka, and chuckling. Louis pushes himself up, and Harry is lying underneath him, a stupid smile plastered onto his face. 

 

“Hi, Lou,” he says breathlessly, and Louis can’t help but smile. 

 

“I couldn’t get Kate,” Louis mutters. 

 

“You tried.” Harry’s hand reaches up, and wipes up against Louis’ face. “Dirt.” 

 

“Can we please go home now? I’m dirty, and cold, and really, really want a cuppa.” 

 

Harry sighs and leans in to press his cold lips against Louis’. His heart pounds, and his mind is swimming, and Louis forgets they’re outside… he forget’s it’s cold out, and everything feels right in Harry’s arms. He kisses him back, tells Harry that he loves him the best way he can, even if he is a kite flying freak. 

 

“We can go home,” Harry murmurs against Louis’ lips, and he’s soaring, floating to cloud nine and Louis never wants to come back down. 

 

“Thank you.” 

 

Louis stands, pulls Harry up and they’re wiping the snow off their clothes. 

 

“But I still want to stop in Tesco and get a new kite.” 

 

Harry smiles impishly. 

 

Louis groans loudly.


End file.
